Needless to say, afterwards some celebrations were had.
A few too many celebrations, one might say.
I have scratches across my arm from where I wrapped it around a tree on Queen street to stop from falling over.
Anyway, I slept it off in the car, then the next morning, after a quick self-sobriety assessment (highly scientific), I headed home.
When I arrived home, I decided it might be a good idea to clean up the cat litter tray.
Having cat shit in close proximity to my head whilst extremely hungover, you may be surprised to learn, was enough to tip me over the edge.
Cue torrents of vomitus.
After introducing the bathroom sink to this rainbow fountain, I cleaned myself and the bathroom and hauled myself into bed.
More sleep would be just the ticket, right?
Oh, so wrong.
I proceeded to have the worst nightmare I have had in many years, and probably the second-worst of all time.
I dreamt that my bedroom was full of spiders.
Thousands of them, in all different varieties.
And they were fighting each other.
But then, whilst some continued fighting, others started crawling all over me and biting me.
The worst part is, it felt real.
I was convinced it was really happening to me and I couldn't escape.
Horrible waves of panic washed over me.
When I eventually woke up, I had to pat myself down and check the room for spiders.
The funny thing is, these days, I don't often remember my dreams.
I'll have to think over whether I'll share the story of my worst ever nightmare, it's a touch embarassing...